The Chapel Wars Read Online Free PDF Page A

It’s going to be fun to see that place nosedive under new ownership. Who’s in charge now, that secretary of his or your dad?”
    “None of your business.”
    “That’s where you’re wrong. This is all business. And I’m watching. Remember that.”
    “Whatever.” I wanted to follow that up with “suck it,” but I kept it classy.
    “We’ll see you in the parking lot, darling.” He snapped the glasses in half and tossed them into the casket. “Rest in peace, Jimmy.”
    I was panting, but I didn’t hear it until Victor and his scent left the room. I was going to … I was going to run after Cranston and tackle him to the floor. Go blind fury, taking full advantage of the don’t-hit-a-girl rule.
    Before I had a chance to attack, Dax stepped in front of me. “Hey. Hey. Don’t go after him. It’s not going to help.”
    “It’ll help his face when I punch it.”
    “Seriously, just stay here with me for a second. He’s a mean drunk. Let him cool off. Breathe.”
    I seethed at the now-empty doorway. “Those were his favorite sunglasses.”
    “Poppy gets a mind to destroy property sometimes. Can I pay for them?”
    I blinked at Dax. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. My grandpa is dead either way.”
    “Right.” He scratched his close-cropped hair like a dog with a behind-the-ear itch. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss.”
    “Yeah. Me too.” I was sorry that he was witnessing my loss too. My loss and my anger and my awkwardness. So I went back to the anger. “Your grandpa is a prick.”
    “He can be.” He shrugged. His left shoulder rose higher than his right. “I’ve heard some stories about your grandpa too.”
    “Don’t lump my grandpa into the same category as that man.”
    “Your grandpa filed four different lawsuits against mine for nothing.”
    “I never heard that,” I said.
    “Just because you didn’t hear about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
    I stuttered. “W-well … Victor probably deserved it.”
    “Probably not, but that’s how it was with our grandfathers. They weren’t at their best around each other. Everyone has some prick in him.”
    “My grandpa is right in front of you!” I pointed toward the casket, like Grandpa would have my back. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”
    “Right. Forget I said anything. …” His voice skidded away. Maybe I could tape the glasses back together. It’s not like Grandpa needed them to block the sun underground.
    “Well, anyway,” I said.
    “Yeah. Anyway.”
    He didn’t leave. He just stood there, all moody expression and toned arms. Not that the arms had anything to do with his expression.
    “Listen.” Dax hesitated before launching into a ramble. “Do you
really
think the dead can hear us? Are they sitting there now, hanging on our every word, worried what the living think about them? Then the longer you live, the more people around you die, and you have all these ghosts judging your every move. Pee in the shower, your great-aunt Mildred knows about it. It’s creepy thinkin’, right?”
    “I don’t think the … the deceased listen to everything that we say,” I said. Who was this kid? “Maybe they just tune in for special events. Like at graduation or when someone says, ‘Your great-aunt Mildred is smiling down on you.’ ”
    “Sure.” He rubbed at his jaw, which had enough stubble that I couldn’t tell how old he was. Eighteen? Nineteen? Older. Older than me. “But if we’re going to enlist in the life-after-death camp, then we should go my-own-private-paradise with it. Great-Aunt Mildred doesn’t have time to see the messy birth of her great-great-niece. She doesn’t care if you thought she was sweet or mean. The lady is busy. She’s up there munching on Kit Kats with a lesser-known president and knitting sweaters out of clouds.”
    “A cloud sweater,” I repeated.
    “Cable-knit.”
    “But if the person who passed away can’t hear us,” I reasoned,“then why are we here? God must have invented